I Think We've Met
by Underground Umbreon
Summary: Where could Mark have possibly met Mimi before? One-shot, rated T because it's RENT and there is an extremely brief, non-descriptive mention of suicide.


_I can't believe I'm doing this._ I thought for what must have been the thousandth time that night. I was still a decent way away from the entrance, and I could already hear the blasting music of the club. As I walked closer, the drunken hoots and catcalls became part of the mix, until I was at the door and entering. Inside were men who had more than likely told their wives they were at a late meeting or something. The ones closest to the stage were shoving money into the clothing of the…erm…exotic dancers. I already felt stupid being here, and I was barely inside. I hung back, avoiding the rowdy spectators by sticking to the wall and near the door. I scanned the stage, not filming for once as I searched for a specific girl…there! I smirked with satisfaction as I found her. Now all I had to do was wait for the show to end, catch her on her way out, and pray I didn't seem like a stalker.

* * *

The second I saw her I jogged to catch up. Obviously, she was eager to get home, since her brisk pace was making her long brown curls bounce to the rhythm of her steps. I came up right behind her and gave a gentle tap to her shoulder. Her response? A swift kick to a place no man wants to be kicked. I crumpled to the ground, groaning quietly. _So much for not seeming like a stalker, Cohen._

"Just had a question!" I managed to get out. She eyed me suspiciously before helping me up.

"Don't I know you?" she asked as I stood.

"Yeah, I live in the loft above you. My name's Mark, Mark Cohen."

"Mimi Marquez." she answered before shaking my hand. I could see she was still a bit on edge. Distrust was plain in her eyes, although I'd bet anything she hardly saw me as a threat. Did anyone? "So…what's the question?" she said, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Listen, I, uh…my roommate, Roger Davis…his girlfriend died eight months ago. They were both on smack, but he gave it up a month after she died." No need to mention the suicide and HIV, right? "He's been clean for a while now, but he hasn't left the loft. I was wondering if you could…um…help him?"

"Are you asking me to give a private performance?"

"What? No, no! Just…could you maybe flirt a little or something? He's a songwriter, used to be a member of the Well Hungarians before the band broke up…"

Recognition lit up her eyes. "Oh, yeah! Now I know who you're talking about. He _is_ kinda cute…" This gave me hope.

"So, um, is it a deal? I can pay a little."

"Nope, no payment needed. Probably would've talked to him soon anyway. I'll swing by tomorrow night, or are you two busy?" I smiled, relieved that my lie had not needed to be backed up.

"No plans, at least maybe this way he'll get off his lazy ass. I doubt he'll say no to you." I was surprised at my last sentence. _For Roger, for Roger, for Roger…_ I chanted in my head.

"Oh trust me, he won't be able to." Mimi answered with a wink. I breathed a silent sigh of relief that my unintentional flirting had gone unnoticed. "I should get home. Walk with me? It can get dangerous…I mean, you're not exactly a tough guy…"

I almost died right there. How many guys could say a _woman_ had asked to walk with them so _they_ wouldn't get hurt? Especially a woman who looked to be fairly young. What was she, sixteen? I just nodded, and we headed back to the building. _Well, Merry Christmas Roger._

_

* * *

_

"She said 'would you light my candle?' and she put on a pout, and she wanted you to take her out tonight?" I asked, trying to sound totally surprised. It seemed to be working.

"Right." he answered offhandedly. I sighed in frustration.

"She got you out!" I countered. Roger donned a look of regret.

"She was more than okay, but I pushed her away! It was bad, I got mad, and I had to get her out of my sight!" he replied. Now I was downright confused. Mad? For what? _I swear he wants to be anti-social._

"Wait, wait, wait—you said she was sweet!"

"Let's go eat, I'll just get fat. It's the once vice left when you're dead meat." he answered bitterly, trying to change the subject. I was about to agree when he pointed to someone in the street. "There, that's her."

I was about to call her by name, but somehow managed to save myself. Sort of. "M—aureen?" I mentally slapped myself.

"Mimi!"

"Woah!" I commented, hoping it seemed like a supportive and manly thing to say.

"I should go. Hey, it's beginning to snow." With that he was off, down to talk to her. _Stupid stubborn rocker. He better not screw this up._

_

* * *

_

A few moments later, they both came over to me. "Mark, this is Mimi. She'll be dining with us tonight." _Yes!_ We both said our hellos, continuing the act of having never met for now. I decided to have some fun with Roger.

"I think we've met." I stated, as though I was trying to figure it out.

"That's what he said!" she answered. I grinned as she gave me a subtle wink. _Merry Christmas Roger._

**

* * *

**

**A/N:** Just a little something I thought up after looking up the words to "Christmas Bells" to find out what Mark was shouting. Turns out it was "But I am over her [Maureen]" I was intrigued that Mark and Roger thought Mark and Mimi had already met, though. And voila, a one-shot is born! So, rate and review. Or just walk away with a tiny smile on your face. Or walk away shaking your head at my bizarre writing and long author's note. Buzz in your decision now.


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